And She's Okay
by Denaliyasha
Summary: He slid the backs of his fingers down her shoulder as lightly as was humanly possible, pulling down slightly on the towel when he reached the edge so he could see how far the bruise extended. Companion piece to "And I'm Okay", Sam's POV on the same scene


Disclaimer:

A/N: Sam's point of view on the end of "Attention, Shoppers," same scene as in my story, "And I'm Okay." Again, dialog comes from the show.

IMPORTANT: Okay, so some of the stuff I say in here about reactions doesn't match up with what I saw in the scene or what I said in "And I'm Okay," but there's a reason for that: Sam is a guy, and he's nervous. He's not going to interpret some of the more minor things she does the same way she might mean them. Example: when she starts twisting the top of her towel right after he comes in, I see nervousness. To a guy, who feels like he's maybe invading her personal space and is focusing on not having her kill him for it, he's probably going to see it as pulling the towel tighter around herself. See what I mean? Slight differences. Anyhow, hope you enjoy, and please review!

**And She's Okay**

He stood just inside the door to her locker room for a few moments, out of sight of the rest of the guys but not invading her sacred domain (her description when he'd joined the team, not his), asking himself if going in was worth it. There was a mile long list of reasons why it was _not_ a good idea for him to go in there now, including but not limited to the fact that she might very well kick his ass for doing so.

He could wait for her to come out, he supposed, but then the rest of the team would be there and he'd never be able to say what he needed to say without feeling like a complete idiot and being mercilessly teased about it.

Well, fine, then. That only left one option: enter the locker room and hope to come out alive.

"Hey, Jules..." He ducked his head to the side as she tugged upwards on her towel, realizing a little too late that he had just swung his face around to the mirror, so he had a perfect view of the massive bruise forming on her right shoulder.

"Um, welcome." Her fingers twisted the hem of the towel a little tighter.

"Sorry. I, uh, I knocked." He hoped he looked convincing; he'd knocked when he'd first entered the room. The little half-formed speech he'd had in his head disappeared, and he scrambled for something to say. "This a curling iron?" He picked up the implement, partly to have something in his hand, partly because he was actually curious about what she'd look like with her hair all in curls, and partly because it was a good distraction.

"Sam!"

"I, uh, I just wanted to say, nice save out there." Nice save out there? Could he sound more pathetic? Not easily, he decided. He tried for humor with a small grin. "Didn't know you could fly." Then the memory of watching her "fly" caught up with him, and he felt his smile fade. "It was... a long four seconds before we knew you were okay." Four seconds of complete breathless terror, four seconds in which he was forced to confront the fact that he felt a little more about this particular team mate than the rest, four seconds...

"And I'm okay." The reminder came in a gentle tone that didn't quite erase his worry.

"Smashed hard against the side of that tower." He could remember the sound of the rope hitting the railing as it was pulled tight. He tried not to sound as emotional as he felt, but it was difficult.

"And I'm okay." He wanted to believe her, wanted to be able to just accept that, but...

"You want a second opinion?" He considered bolting from the room, sure she was going to slug him. The question hadn't been a joke, and he hadn't realized he was going to say it in time to pass it off as one.

She stared at him, an unreadable expression in her eyes, and then she pivoted slowly, bringing the bare expanse of her back into view, one side mottled with purple and that sickly green color only bruises create. Unable to stop himself, he took a few steps forward and reached out a hand. He didn't need to touch her, just... no, he needed to touch her.

He slid the backs of his fingers down her shoulder as lightly as was humanly possible, pulling down slightly on the towel when he reached the edge so he could see how far the bruise extended.

"How does it look?" She didn't turn back around, and he could feel the tightness in her back that told him she was holding herself perfectly still.

All of a sudden, the tension was too much for him, and so he snapped it with a light, "Like a double bacon burger."

She smiled back over her shoulder at him as he did his best to take a step backwards to give her room and negate the temptation to touch again. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He grinned back at her, and then remembered the question that he'd had planned as an excuse, if anyone had caught him lurking outside the locker room. "So, we're going to the diner for breakfast. You hungry?" Her phone started ringing then, and they both glanced at it. "You can bring, uh, whatshisname..." He supposed it was petty of him to refer to her boyfriend that way, but he honestly couldn't remember the guy's name.

"Scott."

"Scott, if you want." He turned to go, cursing himself silently for extending the invitation to the jerk she was dating and for the fact that he just knew he was going to be picturing her in a towel for a long time to come. He was nearly through the door when she called after him.

"Are you riding with Wordy?"

He turned back to look at her, standing there with the phone ringing on the counter next to her. "Minivan express."

"Will you save me a seat?"

He grinned at that, nodded, and left, feeling better than he had since he'd first heard about this Scott person. If she was riding with them, she was much less likely to be inviting Scott. And if she was willing to spend the morning with the team instead of her boyfriend, maybe it wasn't so serious.

Breakfast was shaping up to be his favorite meal of the day.


End file.
